Bath and Bodyworks
by Hobie
Summary: Post Series, Rushuna and Yajiro's continuing adventures.
1. Chapter 1

Yajiro Kojima had been a kenshi for most of his life. Ever since he had learned to walk, he had honed his sword skills at various dojos, taught by the best instructors. The spiky haired seventeen year old had first hand knowledge of loss, violence, life and death. Fighting as a ronin, a soldier, and bodyguard for hire, he was ignorant of his growing reputation throughout the land. Few kenshi nowadays could survive encounters with senshi and live to tell about them. A gun man always had the upper hand against a swordsman for obvious reasons. Still, "The Tiger of the Rear Guard" had proved his quality, helping to suppress a coup within the capital city of Tento.

In the darkness of the balloon tent, he was well aware of the proximity to two other people. Usually, he slept outside under the stars in the open air, but the cooler, rainy weather had put an end to those ideas. They were on their way to the next city-state and there were no inns or houses to stay at along the way.

Their preteen companion, Mikan Kurenai was a marvel with her balloons; she had a seemingly endless supply and could substitute them for different things such as the tent, flotation devices, parachutes, hang gliders, and even clothing. Yajiro had purposely shifted onto his left side, his back to the two females. Rushuna Tendo was closer to him, her light breathing the only indication that she was fast asleep. The younger short haired girl lay to her right, nestled against her for warmth. The trio traveled light, not bothering to pack any blankets.

He tried to inch himself away from the blonde senshi, so she wouldn't unconsciously snuggle against him. It wasn't that he was disgusted by contact with her, he just didn't want to show a vulnerable side. Cuddling with someone like Rushuna, would lead down a road he wasn't ready to travel down. He had to maintain a certain distance from her, although it was a daily struggle.

_Fuuka. _A fellow rebel, she had been the last girl he cared about, much more than a comrade. Although no one else had suspected, he and the brown eyed beauty had shared something special. She had been a free spirit, the perfect Yin to his Yang. Try as he might to suppress his feelings, one look, a touch could melt his icy veneer. Though as deadly a fighter as he, she had a soft side that he came to love.

_Kuso, _mused the swordsman. He suddenly realized that Rushuna was similar. In a fight she was stone cold efficient. When he had been hurt by the Blade Bard Assassin, she had become the complete opposite of what she aspired to be. If she hadn't embraced Tenshi's ideals, there was no telling the amount of carnage she could cause.

His thoughts drifted back to Fuuka. It had been such a shock that she had managed to survive the original fall, when he had been unable to keep a hold of her hand as they dangled thousands of feet up off a precipice. Kaizen Doushi had snatched her from the jaws of death, transforming her into a more ruthless and deadly personage. The Enlightenment of Evil had kept her frail body living somehow. Yajiro had convinced her that Rushuna was innocent and together they defied the Jester. Then end result was that he lost her again, not being able to hold onto her a second time. The first scenario had been played out in his mind a million times; he relived that event in slow motion every seemingly wakening moment.

Her loss had more than numbed his heart, had made him want to never get closer to another woman. The pain of losing a lover was devastating. The Jester had seen through it all when he taunted him, asking whom would he choose between, Shirato or Tendo? Had it been that apparent or did Doushi possess a sixth sense?

"Yatchan," he heard her whisper in a soft, nurturing voice.

"What?" he uttered in feigned annoyance.

"You're shivering, let me warm you up," her soft hands reached for him, then pulled him closer to her. _Shimatta, _he felt her ample breasts against his back.

"Rushuna!" he hissed in protest as she nuzzled her chin against his neck and shoulder.

"Yatchan, it's better this way, we'll all be warmer," she insisted. Just like her, to be motherly.

Sighing, he nodded reluctantly then allowed himself to relax in her arms. Any minute now, he expected Mikan to interfere with her childish histrionics.

He thought back to when he was with Fuuka. In close quarters, they were huddled together for warmth, then one thing led to another, bodies intertwined. She had taken what they both had wanted for so long, and he had given as good as he had got. In the end, they lay gasping and exalting in shared intimacy. He longed for her touch, remembered how soft her skin felt against his own.

Another recollection came to mind, one of him being held by Rushuna in Tenshi's bath, their naked bodies pressed together. He half wondered what he'd do right now if Mikan wasn't in the tent with them.

Tempestuous thoughts raced through his head, but he soon drifted off to a sound sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

They were drenched by the time they reached the coastal city/state of Port Abello. The magnificent sea faring town was renowned for its great harbor and thriving waterfront businesses. Smiles of relief grew on all three of their faces.

"Man, finally we'll have a hot meals and a roof under our heads!" Mikan cried.

"You had that when you lived with Touka," scolded Yajiro. "See what you took for granted?"

The younger girl scowled at the kenshi, then turned to Rushuna who was admiring the city with gladness in her eyes.

"I've only been here once briefly," the Smiling Senshi told them. "I was only eight at the time."

"Sorta Mikan's age, right?" murmured her male partner.

"I'm way older'n that!" she maintained.

They came to a massive bridge which spanned from the mainland over a narrow part of the bay that connected onto the island land mass which made up Port Abelllo. Two guards, bearing AR-15s, blocked their way.

"You'll need to produce identification and surrender your weapons," the older mustached one demanded.

Rushuna and Yajiro exchanged glances. "We're simple tourists," she insisted.

"Our mayor has strict rules about outsider bearing arms," the other guard warned. "You come into our city, you abide by our rules."

"Is this worth the risk?" the samurai questioned his partner.

"We'll have to give people the benefit of the doubt," she figured. "Besides, I'm positively famished, Yatchan!"

He winced when she called him that name in public. Why was his real name so hard to say?

"Rushuna Tendou?" the sentry's eyes widened in shock as he read her ID.

"Why yes," she gave him her best smile.

"Yajiro Kojima?" the other one intoned, glancing at his card. Apparently news from the capital had made it's way up the coast in a short amount of time.

"Can we skip all the red tape?" Mikan inquired. "Rushuna is Tenshi's ambassador."

The spooked watchmen welcomed them through the turnstile without confiscating their weapons.

Mayor Gelatini bristled when word of a Grenadier entering his turf arrived via carrier pigeon from the checkpoint. "Keep them outta our hair," the burly, balding man instructed his deputy, a gangly underling named Samelo.

Mikan had never seen so many boats in one place before. Even Tento's seaport didn't have half as many as she saw right now. Vessels of all shapes and sizes were docked along the great wooden pier. Each served a different purpose: houseboat, fishing craft, transport ship, pleasure yacht. Most of them had quaint names painted on their sides.

Like the previous days, the sky was overcast and the winds quite strong. A misty spray fell from the sky.

"First priority should be to find an inn," observed Yajiro. "And get some food into our stomachs."

Finding lodging proved easy as a span of hotels lined a strip overlooking the waterfront. Although pricey, they catered to the vacationer's needs. Recently, Tenshi had lined their pockets with a generous amount of money.

The first one they came to was _The Albatross. _

"Shall I arrange for you to share a king with your daughter?" an old concierge asked kindly.

"We're partners," explained the swordsman, blushing. "Separate rooms, please."

"Sorry, but we only have one available," he squinted at his register.

"Let's move on," he turned to the blonde.

"Yatchan, come on!" she whined. "Let's worry about assignments later."

Reluctantly, he handed over the money then took their room keys. The old man promised to send them up some dry clothes. Soon, they came to a top floor corner room with two queen beds and a balcony that provided a scenic view of the harbor.

"Ah, I'm gonna sleep for 10 hours!" Mikan sprawled on the bed nearest the door. Rushuna removed her rain soaked hat, and began to take off her dress. "Yajiro!"

"I know the drill," he muttered, turning his back. The kid could be a constant pain.

They all changed out of their clothes, then wrapped themselves in fluffy, terrycloth bathrobes that hung in the closet. A knock sounded on the door and he answered, greeting a nubile teenage girl. She wore her long reddish hair in a French braid. When her doe eyes made contact with his, her cheeks flushed.

"The clothing you requested," she hesitated.

"Thank you," he took the bundle from her.

"My name is Brandy," the girl smiled shyly. "If you need anything else, feel free to ask."

"Of course," he nodded, then handed her a gold piece.

"There's a hot buffet available downstairs," she informed them all, before walking away.

Yajiro's eyes followed her down the hall. He turned back into the room to see Mikan regarding him with a frown. Rushuna remained her cheery self.

Samelo sat in the back office with the hotel manager. "Assign some of your staff to keep on eye out on them at all times. The boss doesn't want them poking their noses around where they shouldn't."

"Yes sir," the old man shuddered.


End file.
